


Gold (always believe in your soul)

by MsJackofAllFandoms



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge 2011 [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Divergence - Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Canon Divergence - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Character Development, Eventual Happy Ending, FIx It, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Grandmother's Always Know Best, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non canon compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Percy Weasley is not as big of an arsehole as he is in Canon, Romance, Told from Percy and Oliver's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms
Summary: Oliver and Percy aren't perfect, and neither is their relationship, but it is helped along by Oliver's Grandmother and a galleon hidden in a pudding. This fic refers to events which happen in canon, but is not a full retelling. It diverges after Oliver and Percy leave school and eventually ends in a fix it for at least two of the canon characters.Originally written in 2011.





	

_Gold: gohld  
/goʊld/  
–noun  
a precious yellow metallic element, highly malleable and ductile, and not subject to oxidation or corrosion.  
  
a quantity of gold coins: to pay in gold  
  
a monetary standard based on this metal _

  
  
Percy was a very serious man. He always had been of a serious persuasion, even when he was a little boy. So when people were told of a silly tradition that led Percy to this moment, first they would look on in disbelief, and then realise that maybe they didn’t know Percy all that well to begin with.  
  
It started with Oliver’s grandmother’s spotted dick pudding. Oliver’s Grandmother was an elderly lady who doted on her grandchildren. All three of them, even her eldest at seventeen years old. She was the old fashioned sort, with her request of manners and family importance, which is why it was such a surprise to them all when, in the middle of Sunday Dinner, at the end of the first week of Easter, she demanded Oliver invite his boyfriend over.  
  
“I’m not one of those withering old people, Oliver,” She’d said in the same Scottish accent all family members at the table had been blessed with, “I’m more accepting than that, and first and foremost, I’m your grandmother. A grandmother needs to meet her grandchildren’s significant others and I want to meet yours.”  
  
Oliver’s eyes darted between his parents. His mum smiled encouragingly and nodded, prompting him to turn back to his Grandmother. “Well- I mean, we’ve only been going out just over a month.”  
  
His Grandmother just looked at him, smiling expectantly and forcing him to continue, regardless of whether he’d finished or not.  
  
“And I’m sure he’d like to meet you, Granny, but-”  
  
“But what, Oliver? Are you embarrassed by your dear old Granny?”  
  
Oliver shook his head, “No. No, not at all.”  
  
“So what is it?”  
  
Oliver tried to think of what positive way he could spin his shy and quiet, serious, easily affronted, easily stressed out, uses-books-as-a-physical-shield boyfriend, who had an odd definition of non-confrontation. He didn’t want his family to get the wrong idea about him, but he also didn’t want them to say something Percy would take the wrong way and scare him into thinking ill of his family.  
  
“He’s made him up, Granny!” One of his cousins said.  
  
“No, I think he’s someone super famous who he doesn’t want to introduce us to! Like Harry Potter!” Said his other cousin. They were twins; both aged nine years old and too smart for their own good.  
  
Oliver grimaced and turned to them, “I’ve not made him up, and I’m _not_ going out with Harry Potter. For starters, he’s a little too young for me.”  
  
“I believe he’s a Weasley, Dorothy. Isn’t that right, Oliver?” Asked his mother, knowing damn well Percy was a Weasley.  
  
“Oh! A Weasley. Now that’s a big family if I ever saw one. Well, that’s settled then. Oliver, invite your Mr Weasley for Sunday dinner next week. No excuses, now. I’m your Grandmother, who knows how much longer I’ll be around, I deserve to meet him.”

  
  
So the following week, Oliver invited Percy to have Sunday dinner at his Grandmother’s. He’d spoken to his family in the week, dropping hints about how shy Percy could be, but also how once he got talking about things, Percy didn’t shut up. He’d skipped the parts about Percy’s frequent rants about rules and regulations and how those rants usually related to his brother’s antics, and he asked them to make sure his Grandmother doesn’t do or say anything that might embarrass the pair of them.  
  
His parents had told him they’d do the best they could, but Oliver was certain there was a matching pair of Dumbledore-esque twinkles in their eyes.  
  
On the Sunday, Percy floo’d to Oliver’s house first so that Oliver could reintroduce Percy to his parents. They’d met before, a few times at Diagon Alley, but not since Oliver came out and admitted he had a boyfriend.  
  
Oliver was torn between pitying Percy and being very amused at his boyfriend’s reactions to such Wood family-style welcomings. He was hugged, kissed on the cheek, welcomed to the house, welcomed to the _family_ (Oliver had cringed as well at that one) and given a mother’s talking to regarding romantic etiquette and behaviour whilst at Granny Dorothy’s house all in under ten minutes.  
  
Percy’s cheeks had turned red and he’d nodded dumbly.  
  
The dinner didn’t get much better, but at least it didn’t go worse. Oliver’s twin cousins, Matilda and Michael, spent most of the dinner staring at Percy as he ate and asked questions in between fork-fulls of food.  
  
“What’s Hogwarts like?”  
“What’s having red hair like?”  
“Do you like your accent?”  
“Do you like our accent?”  
“Do you like Haggis?”  
“Do they serve Haggis at Hogwarts?”  
“Is it true Gryffindor’s the best at Qudditch?”  
“Do you like Quidditch?”  
“How come you don’t play Quidditch?”  
“Do you watch Oliver play Quidditch?”  
“Is he really the Captain?”  
“Is he any good as the Captain?”  
“Do you know Harry Potter too?”  
  
Most of the questions they’d already asked Oliver a hundred times already, but Percy had answered each one patiently, as if he was answering a second year’s questions during one of his tutoring sessions.  
  
Oliver’s Grandmother had been her old darling self. Friendly, warm and welcoming, didn’t say or do anything too embarrassing. She asked Percy questions about the Weasley family, threw him a bone when he struggled to talk about hobbies (Oliver knew Percy had plenty, but a life time of ridicule thanks to the Twins made it hard for him to talk about them without anticipating ridicule) and even imparted some wisdom. “Percy,” she’d said, “laddie, never try to be someone you’re not. Anyone says anything about you two, you send them around my way.”  
  
Percy nodded, unsure just how serious Oliver’s Grandmother actually was. “Yes, Mrs...”  
  
“Wood.” Oliver prompted.  
  
“Mrs Wood.”

  
  
It was the spotted dick that turned things a bit awkward. Grandmother Dorothy had a habit of hiding coins inside puddings, usually at Christmas with the Christmas pudding, but also on birthdays, so long as the Birthday Boy or Girl in question had a favourite pudding that could have coins hidden inside of them, and on certain special occasions. Grandmother Dorothy considered Sunday Dinner with Percy a special occasion, and she always made sure the Guest of Honour got their coin.  
  
She’d dished out the pudding, refusing Percy’s offer of help and went through the extra effort of threatening Oliver. Pointing at Percy, she said in a tone not to be argued with, “Keep that boy of yours in his seat, he’s a guest in my house. I may be an old grandmother, but I’m not too old to dish out a few puddings.”  
  
Percy’s face flushed, “Oh no- I’m sorry Mrs Wood, I didn’t mean to imply that you-”  
  
“Nonsense,” she’d replied, her gentle Grandmother-esque tones interrupting Percy before he could apologise about apologising. “I know a good helpful lad when I see one. And I meant what I said, Percy, It’s Dorothy. None of this Mrs Wood business, that’s Sheena’s territory now.”  
  
Oliver’s mum held up her hand and looked at Percy, “Sheena, if you would, Percy.”  
  
Percy nodded at both of them, still quite red. “Yes, of course.”  
  
Once his bowl was in front of him, Percy had looked at Oliver before thanking his Grandmother for going through so much effort to make his favourite pudding. “It’s not very often I get it at home and they do it wonderfully at Hogwarts when it’s there, but it’s not always made. In fact in all six and a half years of being at Hogwarts, I can think I have eaten it maybe up to ten times. Once was Christmas during my second year and-”  
  
Percy had realised he was rambling and that everyone was watching him, all with identical Wood-like smiles on their faces. “So, erm, thank you.”  
  
Whilst Oliver ate his own pudding and talked to his mother, Percy beside him ate quietly, until he gave what could only be described as a strangled choke. Oliver turned quickly and started patting him on the back, but Percy shook his head.  
  
“I’m alright, Ol.” He said, through an embarrassing mouthful of pudding. He politely pulled the coin from his mouth and swallowed the rest of the pudding in his mouth. He’d looked down at the coin in his hand and gasped. “Oh, my.”  
  
Oliver saw the golden glisten of the Galleon held in his boyfriend’s hand and started to worry. He knew Percy’s issues with money, and his overabundance to be polite and worried his boyfriend would implode at feeling torn. Oliver mostly just hoped he’d thank his Grandmother and accept the coin.  
  
“I-” Percy had started, looking in shock at Grandmother Dorothy’s face. “I-”  
  
“All yours, laddie.” Grandmother Dorothy had interjected, before Percy could even form a word.  
  
“Hey, wicked! I got a knut.” Said Matilda, holding out the bronze coin and grinning at it.  
“Wicked! So did I.” Said Michael, “Thanks Granny.”  
  
Percy threw a look at Oliver, asking without speaking _Do I keep this?_. Oliver hated just how insecure the issue of money made Percy, knowing that his boyfriend was fighting the very strong urge to politely decline, protest that he couldn’t accept such a significant amount of money and was probably worrying this was some sort of test of character.  
  
Oliver thought he’d be best to jump in, before an awkward silence could take hold. “We’ll have to come here more often, I’ve never seen you so speechless.”  
  
Percy’s face had flushed, “I’m sorry, I mean- Thank you Mrs- I mean, Dorothy. This is very kind of you. I don’t think, if my parents were to- I couldn’t possibly-”  
  
Grandmother Dorothy stretched across the table to reach Percy to pat his hands. “Then this’ll be our little secret. Now finish eating before your puddings go cold.”  
  
Percy knew better than to argue with someone who could put his mother to shame when it came to welcoming people into her home.  
  
Oliver knew Percy’s guilt complex had been kicked off, though, and knew Percy would try and talk about it at a later point. At that moment, though, he enjoyed his own pudding and was quite pleased to find a sickle in his last mouthful.

  
  
When it came to going back to Oliver’s after winding down after their dinner, Percy was so polite in saying goodbye to Grandmother Dorothy, he even agreed to return at some point, and somehow agreed to answer anymore questions Matilda and Michael might have for him.  
  
“You’ve got a few hours before you have to floo home, haven’t you?”  
  
Percy nodded, “Yes, about two hours.”  
  
Oliver showed Percy up to his room and promptly jumped on the bed and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Whoo, I think we survived, Perce.”  
  
Percy closed the door after himself and sat at the chair in front of Oliver’s writing desk. “Yes, I think we did. Just about. Your grandmother is a very lovely woman.”  
  
Oliver scoffed, “Yep, she’s the best Granny I ever had.”  He looked over at Percy, to see him wearing his unsure thinking face. “She’s the only Granny I’ve ever had, Perce.”  
  
“Ah. And Matilda and Michael, are they always at your Grandmother’s?”  
  
Oliver nodded, “Yeah. My Auntie Silvia works 12-hour shifts at St Mungo’s so they stay at Granny’s over the weekend to give her a rest. Sorry about them, by the way. They’re good kids but, well, sometimes they give Fred and George a run for their money.”  
  
Percy cleared his throat, took his glasses off his face and cleaned them. Oliver had learnt over the years that it was a nervous habit of Percy’s, usually done before he was about to say something that was either pompous, well meant but pompous all the same, or over thought to the point of it being an oversight.  
  
“Talking about Money-”  
  
“No.” Oliver said, knowing where the conversation was heading.  
  
“Just hear me out, Oliver.”  
  
“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m telling you, don’t. My Granny may be old but she’s not daft, she didn’t give you that Galleon by mistake, she gave it to you as a gift, and she would be offended to know that you want to give her it back.”  
  
“But Oliver-”  
  
He gave Percy a sharp look, “But nothing. It would offend me too, Perce, so keep it ok? You never know when a spare Galleon will come in use.”  
  
Percy had tried to apologise, but they both knew that Percy hadn’t purposefully meant to offend anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact.  
  
Which was why, six years later, the silly tradition had been so significant and long lasting. That night, after Percy had floo’d home with Galleon clutched in his hand in his robe pockets, he found a spare piece of parchment and wrapped it up, hiding it in his desk drawer for when he went back to Hogwarts the following week.

  
  
That was all unbeknownst to Oliver, who was only told what had occurred later that night, after he’d snatched up what was on his desk in his dorm room, and stalked down the tower stairs into the Gryffindor common room.  
  
“What is the meaning of this?” He’d asked Percy, holding the coin out and startling the third year who he was sat next to.  
  
Percy checked the common room before pulling him to one side, away from anyone who might hear them. “Please don’t make a scene, Oliver.”  
  
“Don’t make a scene?” he hissed, “I told you this was yours to keep, that it would offend me if you gave it back.”  
  
Percy flushed. “I adored meeting your Grandmother, but to me a galleon is a lot of money. I can’t, in my right mind Oliver, keep it knowing it would be depriving a wonderful old lady of money. If my mother had known about it, she’d have told me to give it back straight away.”  
  
Oliver knew that Percy had meant well, Percy always meant well, even when he was shouting at his brothers and ranting about rules and regulations. It was never to come across as the self-righteous stuck up head boy, it was always to mean well, to keep everyone in line, out of trouble and most of all safe and well. It was why Oliver couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore with the redhead over the issue, nothing he said would have made Percy accept the galleon back.  
  
So Oliver put Quidditch methods into play. _If you can’t get mad, get even_.

  
  
The next night, whilst Percy was doing head boy duties, before Oliver left for quidditch practice, he got some parchment and wrapped the coin up, placing it beneath some notes in Percy’s desk drawer.  
  
A week later, he found the same wrapped up parchment encasing the golden coin hidden beneath his spare broomstick polishing kit. If it wasn’t for the fact that the twig straightener in his first kit had succumbed to old age and overuse and had broken, Oliver was sure he’d not have even moved his spare kit until he was packing up to leave Hogwarts for summer, for good.  
  
He matched fire with fire and hid it beneath Percy’s special edition of “Hogwarts, A History.” It had it’s own drawer of Percy’s desk, Percy never read it for fear of ruining it (It was a gift from Proffessor Binns in their third year) and only kept it around for fear of something happening to his old, normal copy. From what Oliver had learnt over the years, the old normal copy had been bought second hand and passed down to Percy from one of his older brother’s.  


Much to his surprise, a month later during their N.E.W.Ts, when Oliver was scrambling around for notes on, well, _everything_ , his spare tie landed on the floor with a thud. He looked at it suspiciously. The last time he used his spare tie, it was because his normal one had met the Weasley Twins in the Gryffindor changing rooms. His tie, for the rest of the day until McGonagall had confiscated it, had kept changing colour and had even projected certain colours onto the people in front of him. McGonagall had gotten fed up of getting hit with a haze of fuchsia pink every time she’d stood in front of Oliver’s table, she’d taken it off him and promised he could have it back at the end of the week.  
  
Worried his spare tie had somehow also had a run with the Twins since, he pointed his wand at it and gave “Finite Incantatum” a try. Nothing happened, so he figured that either there was no spell on it to begin with or if there had been, it had ended without a sign. He poked his tie with his wand just to make sure.  
  
Upon closer inspection, in the fold between the cloth and seams, he saw the old parchment that was wrapping the gold coin.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he said to himself. Even more ridiculous was the strategic thought he put into finding a new hiding place for the coin within Percy’s belongings. Oliver was sure he wouldn’t see the coin ever again, _absolutely sure_ that Percy would give up the game and keep the damn coin when the both of them left Hogwarts and onto their dream careers.  
  
After all, someone working their way up to be minister of magic couldn’t partake in silly games of “ _Last one to hold the Galleon is a rotten egg_ ” could they?

  
  
Well, apparently they could. When Oliver had only been away for a week with Puddlemere United, whose grounds were off limits whilst they upped the security, so they were training in lower league team’s grounds instead, Percy had sent him a little care package.  
  
He’d signed his letter, “ _Always thinking of you. Percy._ ”  
  
In the small box that the ministry owl had brought him, nestled between a slice of cake, the latest issue to Quidditch Monthly magazine and the soap he’d asked Percy to send him, was that ever so familiar square of parchment, still keeping the galleon all wrapped up.  
  
Oliver came to the conclusion that the parchment could do with retiring. It was getting torn from being stuffed into small and hard to reach places all the time. So, Oliver carefully unwrapped the paper, happy to see the shining galleon, and re-wrapped it in the closest thing he had to hand: Puddlemere United issue wallpaper. Complete with zooming players flying on and off the page. He waited a few days before replying, adding in his letter “We’d best not tell Granny you sent it to me by Owl post, she’d be worried about them eating it!”

  
  
Three months later, when Oliver had officially been upgraded to full reserve player, with a contract, and not just a probation reserve that could be chucked off the team at any moment (well at least not without care and consideration to his financial needs, at least), Oliver put down for a lease on a brand new spacious two bedroom flat.  
  
The Sunday dinner at his Granny’s house was to be a special occasion, so Oliver had been given orders to get Percy to come as well. They kept their game with the galleon to themselves, and to Oliver’s delight, when it came to pudding, he had been given a galleon of his own. Although he had tried to turn it down, something which had not gone unnoticed by his boyfriend.  
  
“Granny, I’m an up and coming star of a quidditch team, I should be putting galleons, lots of galleons, into your pudding! Every meal, even your cup of tea!”  
  
Grandmother Dorothy shook her head, “Oliver, you were my first Grandchild. You could be the minister of magic and I’ll still be putting galleons in to your pudding when you do something amazing. Now finish your roly poly before its gets cold.”  
  
Like the first time, Matilda and Michael had bombarded Percy with questions.  
  
“What’s it like working in the ministry?”  
“What’s it like in the ministry?”  
“Do you know the minister?”  
“Do you have dinner in your office?”  
“Do you live in your own house?”  
“Can you invite the minister around for tea?”  
“Can you order people around?”  
“Does anyone order you around?”  
“Can Oliver order you around or will he get put in Azkaban for it?”  
“Can you send people to Azkaban?”  
“Have you ever been to Azkaban?”  
“Can you make up your own laws?”  
“Do you ever see Harry Potter anymore?”  
  
Once again, Percy went through their questions one by one and answered each of them as if they were questions posed to him by the minister himself. “I can not send people to Azkaban, and I haven’t seen Harry Potter since the summer, but I suppose I will see him again whenever my youngest brother Ron can invite him around.”

  
  
“Matilda always asks about Harry, ever since I mentioned he was on the quidditch team. It wouldn’t surprise me if she asks you to invite all of your brothers around next time, just so he can be invited along.” Oliver said, once the twins had left the table to play outside.  
  
Percy smiled and held in a laugh, “She reminds me of Ginny. She was like that from the moment the twins mentioned they’d helped him with his luggage in his and Ron’s first year.”

 

Percy had stayed the night at Oliver’s flat, that night, but when Oliver woke up, he was in his bed alone. He frowned and strained to hear if maybe Percy was in the bathroom, or wandering around the kitchen or living room. When neither was the case, he sighed and lied on his back, planning to get more sleep. That was until he felt parchment resting on the pillow, under his cheek.  
  
_“Oliver, didn’t want to wake you. Emergency at ministry. Don’t know how long I’ll be needed. Will try and write later if I can. I’m sorry, please forgive me. Percy.”_  
  
Resting in the middle of the pillow on the other side of the bed was the ever growing familiar wrapped up Puddlemere United wallpaper.

 

~

  
  
Oliver’s relationship with Percy started hitting a rough patch at the two-year mark. They’d both been out of Hogwarts for just over a year, both had demanding jobs that their lives had to be squeezed around. Percy tried to get to as many of Oliver’s matches as possible, but with the unavoidable threat of You-Know-Who rising in power, people getting ready for another dark war, Percy always seemed tired, never wanted to talk, never really wanted to do anything.  
  
The thing that hurt Oliver most was that Percy still hadn’t come out and admitted that he was gay and in a loving relationship with him. At the beginning, they’d both had their reasons. Oliver begun his contracted time at Puddlemere United under heavy media scrutiny, Percy was working with a lot of stressful things at work and people were being fired from the Ministry left, right and centre for the smallest of reasons. Percy didn’t want his personal life to give them fuel to fire him.  
  
But soon those reasons had started to sound like excuses. Percy’s department was overhauled and they acted more like PR for the ministry than anything, and the attention on Oliver had inevitably started to relax.  
  
Things nearly ended between them when Percy struggled to find time between work, sleeping at his flat, spending time with Oliver and acting as if everything was perfectly normal whilst at The Burrow.  
  
Oliver thought he had the solutions to all their problems and announced as such during dinner one night. “Just live here. If this is a coming out issue, I have a second bedroom. Nobody would suspect anything.”  
  
“My family would suspect, Oliver. If they expect me to be home and then visit me for some reason, what if I’m not there? Better yet, what if they get out of the floo only to realise that I don’t even live there anymore and haven’t for a while. I can’t keep something like that from them.”  
  
“Oh but you can keep me, your boyfriend of over two years, from them!”  
  
“Oliver, it is not like that.”  
  
Oliver got up from the table and stormed in to his bedroom. He roughly searched through one of his chest-of-drawers before pulling out a familiar shape, now wrapped in parchment again, though this time with letterhead writing on it, stating “Official Ministry Business. From the desk of Mr P. Weasley.”  
  
He slammed the wrapped coin on to the table, mindless of the crockery and cutlery but also managing not to hit anything. “Take this, and when you’re ready to be honest with yourself, let me know.”  
  
“Oliver-”  
  
“I know things are hard for you, Percy, but right now I have to pencil in time with my own boyfriend. I’ve done nothing but be honest and open with you, but you get antsy when I even send you a letter at your flat these days. I’m not allowed to talk about you at work, you won’t talk about me anywhere. People think I’m a hermit with some sort of schedule obsession. I ran into the twins a few weeks ago, did you know? They said ‘When we see Percy next, when he’s removed the stick from his arse, we’ll tell him you said hello.’ I was having dinner with you that night! I could have told you that _they_ had said hello!”  
  
Percy looked down at his plate, avoiding looking at the wrapped up coin just above it. “Oliver, you don’t understand.”  
  
“Maybe I’d understand if you told me.”  
  
“The Ministry-”  
  
“The Ministry have bigger things worry about than your sexuality, Percy!” Oliver calmed himself down. He really didn’t want to shout, he didn’t even know why he was shouting, he was just tired at playing second fiddle to Percy’s job, and covering up any tracks that might connect him to Percy. It wasn’t in his nature to be so secretive unless it involved a Quidditch pitch.  
  
“Go home, get some sleep, and decide what you want to do in the morning.”  
  
Percy looked up at him, his fatigue showing more than it ever had. “What do you mean, decide what I want to do?”  
  
Oliver shrugged, “Decide whether you want to be open and honest with me, or whether you want to carry on weaving a web of lies to cover up what you really are.”  
  
“Oliver, of course-”  
  
He shook his head, “No, I won’t let you make this decision when you’re so tired. Go home, get some sleep, come back tomorrow and we’ll talk properly.”  
  
Percy picked up the galleon before nodding and flooing out of Oliver’s apartment.

  
  
Their fourth year anniversary, which should have been a happy moment for them surviving rough patches between them and hard times that got harder, was tarnished by The Dark War. Thankfully, it was one of the last nights of the war, but they’d not known that at that point.  
  
All they’d had known was that too many had died already, more would probably die, and even Oliver and Percy were facing death in the face by joining The Dark War as Death Eaters stormed Hogwarts and were attacking everyone in their path.  
  
If Percy had proven anything, it was that he had always deserved to be in Gryffindor. If Oliver had proven anything, well, there weren’t many people around to see it. Him and Percy had gotten separated and the only indication that Percy had even been by his side at the start of the night was the golden galleon tucked away in his robe’s pocket. Every time they’d had to separate, every time they’d crossed paths again, they took one precious second to pass that galleon back and forth.  
  
It might have sounded silly, but, well, what’s a little war between love-affirming moments?  
  
Or at least that’s what Oliver said to himself every time he’d taken one precious second to pass or receive that golden galleon, it’s latest wrapping in the form of a Weasley Wizard Wheezes receipt from the first purchase Percy had ever made at the shop.

  
  
The next day found them all more exhausted than they’d ever felt. Oliver couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Had they really just survived the war? Was Voldemort’s reign of terror finally over?  
Had his young seeker of a teammate really died to save everyone? Had Harry then _really_ come back to life?  
  
Well, Oliver could see him from where he stood, watching him as the Weasleys gathered around him, as Molly hugged him as if he was just one of them. Oliver could see that he was bloodied, bruised, pale and exhausted but Harry Potter was indeed alive. He hoped his own family had survived with as much intact.  
  
It wasn’t quite how he’d wanted to spend his fourth anniversary with his boyfriend, but if it meant there would be a fifth, he wasn't going to complain.  
  
  
The year that followed the end of the war was a very strange one. People mourned and remembered the dead, they rebuilt their lives, they celebrated any new life that came after as if it were a miracle occurring. Some would say it was. Oliver just felt like he’d been through it all once before. He had, but he was very young, too young to even remember. But this second time felt more real, more permanent.  
  
The Ministry, lead by old Kingsley Shacklebolt, was being reformed. Percy was even offered his old job back, but he turned it down. It would have been a while for Quidditch to be started up again, so they both signed up to help to help magical community’s get rebuilt.  
  
Oliver was very relieved to find that his family had been fine as well, kept in a safe house in a hidden magical community. Michael and Matilda hadn’t been told the worst of the details, but they were old enough to understand history had been made that night.  
  
As soon as they were allowed to, Oliver took Percy to his Grandmother’s for a few days rest. There was nothing like the company of his Grandmother to get him back to sorts, so he hoped the same could be done for Percy.  
  
He hadn’t been wrong.  
  
She was on Percy the moment they’d flood through the fire “Och, you’re all skin and bones, look at you! You need feeding up, Laddie. Here, you sit down, Oliver you’re on tea duty. I’ll get the jam and cakes!”   
  
“Thank you, Dorothy.” Percy replied after being forced into his usual chair at the dining table. “I’m glad to see your well, and that your home survived. We would have, or at least Ol would have come up sooner, but we weren’t allowed. There’s a whole new security system with the floo network and-”  
  
Oliver placed a hot cup of tea in front of Percy, and then placed two more in front of the seats he and his Granny usually sat.  
  
“Don’t you mind about that, deary! I’ve heard from Oliver’s father, I’m just glad you two are alright.” She placed the plate of cakes and a pot of jam in the middle of the three of them and squeezed both of their hands. “My eldest grandchild, fighting in a war with his loved one. It’s a grandmother’s nightmare, but I’m glad you’re all right. And your family, Percy? Were they alright?”  
  
Percy cleared his throat. “One of my younger brother’s, George, he’s one of the twins, he- he lost an ear. We almost lost Fred, the other twin, but he was pushed out of the way just in time. We’re a bit pulled apart at the seams, I think my mother would say, but we’ll be alright.” He tried a smile but it came out weak.   
  
“Well if I know Molly Weasley’s reputation, you will be.”  
  
Percy nodded as Oliver passed him a teacake and some jam to spread on it. He took a moment for himself before starting a conversation they had both agreed to tell Grandmother Dorothy about.  
  
“Granny, there’s something Percy would like to tell you.”  
  
“Oh dears,” She’d said, and took a sip of her cup of tea. “You’re not about to make me a Great Grandmother are you? I know I may be old, but I’m not ready for that.”  
  
Percy choked as his teacake went down the wrong way. Oliver gently patted him on the back.  
  
“No. No, Granny, I think I can promise you that that’s not going to happen anytime soon. No, erm, well...” he turned to Percy, knowing that that was when Percy should have started talking instead.  
  
“We just want you to know something. I feel like you should know this.” Oliver watched his Grandmother’s reaction as Percy dug the coin, still wrapped in the Weasley Wizard’s Wheezes receipt, out of one of his inside pockets. “Whilst we were fighting at Hogwarts- You see, this is the Galleon you gave me when I first came here. I didn’t feel right about accepting it. It’s a lot of money to me, but I didn’t want to seem impolite by not accepting, so I was very torn when you gave me this. I know if my mother had any say in it, she’d have made me give it back.”  
  
“Which is why, if I remember correctly, we said it’d be our little secret?” Said Grandmother Dorothy, giving Percy a look that Professor McGonagall would be proud of.  
Percy nodded. “Yes. And it was, except I kept trying to make Oliver accept it back by hiding it amongst his possessions and he’d hide them in mine, and then it became a lot more important than a coin I was trying to return. I know this must seem very silly, but I want you to know just how much I appreciate this Galleon. Every time me and Oliver got separated at Hogwarts, or crossed paths again at Hogwarts, whilst we were fighting, we would pass it back and forth.” Percy paused for thought, “Dorothy, I’d like to believe that we are both we are now, and in fact that my brother Fred is alive and well, is due to us taking a second each time to pass this golden coin back and forth. You see, if Oliver hadn’t have been where he was at one exact moment, my brother Fred would have been killed. I just wanted to thank you.”  
  
Oliver blinked rapidly to try and get rid of any tears that may have been trying to form in his tear ducts. He chuckled and turned to his Grandmother, who was also quite misty eyed. “I told you that once he gets talking he doesn’t shut up.”  
  
She gently slapped his hand. “Watch it, young man. This is a wonderful partner you have here, I’m not above replacing you as my eldest Grandchild.”  
  
Feeling quite reprimanded, he smiled nicely at Percy and held his hand. “Don’t worry, Granny. I wouldn’t want him to shut up for anything in the world.”

 

~

  
  
Their firth anniversary was spent at The Weasley’s. Their first ever anniversary celebrated by people other than Oliver and Oliver’s parents. Molly had gone all out for them, made it a big Weasley dinner with decorations courtesy of the Twins. For any and all of the teasing Percy had anticipated from them, Oliver was quite pleased to find that they were being quite respectful. Percy countered that with the possibility of it also being the anniversary of the war, and that his mother had warned them to behave respectfully.  
  
Oliver wasn’t convinced.  
  
“It’s only because you’re their old Quidditch Captain. If you were anyone else, I’m positive there’d be crude jokes.” Percy had said at one point, during dinner.  
  
“May I remind you of the Fuchsia pink tie incident?”  
  
Fred grinned, “We should have seen this coming from a mile away, George. Only a certain kind of man knows the shades.”  
  
Oliver quirked an eyebrow, “And what kind of man is that, Fred?”  
  
“A man in love of course!” George had answered.  
  
“Nice save.”  
  
Both Fred and George saluted.  
  
  
A couple of months after their fifth anniversary of being together as a couple, one morning Oliver found Percy sitting at the dining room table in their kitchen, staring deeply out of the window above the sink.  
  
He sat down quietly beside him and tried not to startle him. “Percy? You alright?”  
  
Percy instinctively reached for Oliver’s hand. “Yes, Oliver. I was just thinking.”  
  
“Galleon for your thoughts?”  
  
“Funny you should mention money. We’re nearly at the end of our War Effort pay, and with Qudditch not being up yet, I think I should get a job. Rebuilding society is winding down now and a lot of the volunteers aren’t needed anymore.”  
  
Oliver nodded, he’d felt the same way about the Volunteering programme, and he never wanted to mention money worries to Percy, but it was something that was on his mind too.  
  
“My father’s department is hiring, and many of his work colleagues have either been sacked, or promoted, changed departments or have chosen not to go back in to the Ministry. I don’t blame them, but I was thinking that maybe I should join my father, in his department. There’s a lot of paper work involved and I think, even if it’s just the three of us, my father, my father’s boss and me that is, we’d do a lot better than his old department.”  
  
Oliver nodded again, “That sound’s great Percy. Why don’t you put in for it?”  
  
“Well, with both of our War Efforts Pay running out soon, we’ll only be living on my wages and it will be significantly smaller than the one I had. I wouldn’t dream of you giving up this flat, but I can’t work out a way for us to carry on living here. I’ve thought of moving out by myself, but you’d be no better off, and even if I gave you all of my wages and lived at The Burrow-”  
  
Oliver interrupted Percy before he could get himself wound up recounting all of the different ways he’d tried to figure out a way to avoid financial failure. “Hey, no, you don’t need to move back at the Burrow. We’ll move out of here, get a small flat of our own. I’ll look into a job now that volunteers are in excess, we’ll be fine.”  
  
“If my parents have taught me one thing, it’s that money can go a long way if you stretch it enough. I really don’t want you to give up this flat for us.”  
  
Oliver shrugged, “This flat’s just a flat. It’s the stuff in it that’s important. We’ll get a flat we’ve both chosen. One bedroom.”  
  
Percy smiled and nodded. It reminded Oliver of when they were back at Hogwarts, when Percy had done something he could attribute to being a Prefect, done something he was proud of.  
  
It had been a while since Oliver had seen Percy be proud of something.  
  
“There’s also one more thing, Oliver.”  
  
Oliver took notice at how serious Percy suddenly looked. “What is it?”  
  
“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for days but, things kept happening and I kept finding the silliest excuse to put it off. Some Gryffindor I am.”  
  
Oliver looked carefully at Percy, unsure as to what he was trying to say to him.  
  
Percy stood up suddenly and then looked at the floor. Oliver, thinking that maybe something was on the floor that had startled Percy into standing up, looked down as well.  
  
“No, you’re meant to- sorry. This isn’t- See, the conventional guidelines suggest that I should kneel, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that convention. Stand up with me.”  
  
Oliver felt very confused, but stood up anyway. “Okay...” He watched as Percy focused his eyes towards his hands.  
  
“Oliver, we’ve been together for over five years, now. You’re nearly twenty-three, and though many people may think we’re too young, if the war taught me anything, it’s that you never know when things are going to end.-”  
  
Oliver tried to stave off the fear of dread coming over him. “Perce?”  
  
“We could have died that night. A lot of our friends and family did die. I spent most of our time at Hogwarts planning for the future. I took all of the subjects I needed to so that I could achieve the most out of going in to the Ministry, and look where that got me.”  
  
Oliver shook his head, not wanting to hear anymore. “Percy, please, I know money’s going to be a bit tight, but we can work through this.”  
  
Percy was shook out of his reverie. “What? Oliver, what are you talking about?”  
  
“Your big dumping speech!”  
  
“My big what?” Percy took a moment to think over what he’d just said and looked at Oliver in horror. “Merlin, no! Oliver listen to what I am saying to you.”  
  
“You’re saying all good things come to an end.”  
  
Percy puffed up his chest and glared at Oliver, his face flushed red. “I’m trying to propose to you, you thick headed brute!”  
  
Oliver paused, and thought back over what Percy had been saying. Now he knew the context, it didn’t sound as bad as he’d first imagined it to be.  
  
“I’ll start again, shall I?” Percy asked him.  
  
“Please do.”  
  
Percy started out through gritted teeth, repeating the first part of his speech word for word. As if he’d had the speech memorised for ages. “Oliver, we’ve been together for over five years, now. You’re nearly twenty-three, and though many people may think we’re too young, if the war taught me anything, it’s that you never know when things are going to end. Both of us could have died that night, and we lost too many friends to not come away and learn something. I spent most of our time at Hogwarts planning for the future. I took all of the subjects I needed to so that I could achieve the most out of going in to the Ministry, and look where that got me. A paper pusher back at the bottom of the rung. Well I’m not standing for it, anymore, Oliver. I’m taking my decisions into my own hands and I’m living for the now, not the future. Would you do me the honour of joining me, living for the now and taking on the future as it comes to us?”  
  
Oliver nodded, “Yes. Yes of course I would.” He went to hug Percy, but Percy stopped him.  
  
“I didn’t get you a ring. I didn’t think you’d care for it, so I got you this instead.”  
  
Percy finally unclasped his hands and presented him with a necklace with an encased galleon attached to it. “That’s our galleon. I thought that when it came to the wedding, maybe we could think of getting it melted down into rings, if that would be alright with you and your Grandmother.”  
  
Oliver hugged Percy and nodded into his shoulder. “I think she’d like that idea, yes.”  
  
  
Naturally, they got married on their 6th anniversary of being together as a couple. It had been quite complicated, organising the wedding. With both parties being both the groom, a lot of the usual arrangements had to be changed slightly.  
  
As there were no bridesmaids, they thought it fair to not have a strict Best Man either. Percy had chosen, much to the surprise of everyone bar Oliver, the twins to stand beside him at his side of the alter. Oliver had his father and Michael stand at his side.  
  
They got married at The Burrow, Molly wouldn’t even hear a word of anywhere else and as Oliver was just grateful that both families could get along, he didn’t care where they got married. He just cared whom he was getting married to.  
  
The man whom he exchanged vows and gold rings with.  
  
When it came to the speeches, Percy had agreed to let The Twins say their piece first. He made them promise it would be tasteful, from both of them and not one each, and would be under ten minutes long.  
For once, they’d actually listened to his rules.  
  
Oliver’s Dad did another speech, and much to his embarrassment, got too choked up to listen to it properly.  
  
Last but not least was Grandmother Dorothy. Both Oliver and Percy had always wanted her to say at least something at the wedding, and she hadn’t needed persuading to go the whole hog of a wedding speech that any Best Man would be proud of. If it painted Percy in a different light than he was used to showing, he didn’t say anything or try to deny it. At one point, Percy may have been a very serious man, but when Grandmother Dorothy told them all a story that had led Percy to this moment, maybe they’d realise that the man before him was no longer the boy they used to know. Maybe some would even realise that they hadn’t known him at all.


End file.
